Wally's Musings
by Caliente
Summary: [EDITED 05/2009] one-shot vignette –– Wally's thoughts as he tries to cope with the reality of Identity Crisis during the end of the 7th issue. –– major spoilers for that series and tie-ins, also a bit continuity heavy


**Author's Note:** This story is set during Identity Crisis #7. Major spoilers for the Identity Crisis series which I _highly_ recommend. All of the quotes, which are in _italics_, are taken directly from the comic. This fic was a bit of therapy for me after the Crisis series because it was just so much to deal with. And since Wally is my favorite superhero of all time and this was such a big thing for him, I felt like I just had to write something. So I did. And this is it. Cheers!**  
Note2:** Edited 05/16/09. Cleaned up some wording, grammar and things of nature. Plot elements are all still essentially the same.  
**Disclaimer:** Characters mentioned are used without permission and are trademarks of DC. I am simply borrowing them for my purposes. Please don't sue.

**Wally's Musings**  
by, Caliente

_**Wally: **"You ruined it. Don't you understand? You ruined it…"__**  
Ollie: **"Yeah, I thought the same thing for years. But the League endures. It's what it's designed to do. The League always endures."_

**Wally:** "What about Bruce? You really think he still doesn't know?"  
**Ollie: **"Remember what I said last week? That Clark hears what he wants to hear?"  
**Wally: **"Yeah…"  
**Ollie: **"Bruce knows what he wants to know… and more than any of us, he also knows… that you should never underestimate what someone will do for the people they love."

* * *

Every time I see him, I remember. It eats away at my soul a little more and I wonder, _Why am I even here?_ Then I look around at the company I keep, and I remember that, too.

I'm here because I'm a hero.

My name is Wally West. I'm the fastest man alive. I'm the Flash.

Some people think that's a blessing. They think I've been given a gift—an amazing ability to be used to help people. I thought that, too, when I first got my powers. I was the happiest person alive because now I was just like my hero. I was just like the Flash. It was a dream come true, especially for a kid from Blue Valley with mediocre parents and a short attention span.

Even as I grew up, a part of me still felt the dream. I watched people I cared for die—friends, heroes, family. Some of them came back, others didn't. There was a Crisis and, after that, we all felt a little bit older. I took on the mantle of the Flash to honor my predecessor and continued the fight. I saw the world changing around me but, for me, things still remained black and white. There was good. There was evil. There were heroes. There were villains. Sometimes they changed sides, like with Hal or Piper, but the line remained. The line always remained.

I mean, damn, I've been a good guy since I was a teenager. I've seen things that no person should ever have to see and done things no person should be asked to do, all the while trying to keep a smile on my face. Not because I'm the Flash—that's just what I am, not who. Who I am is so much more than a red suit.

But it's because of _who_ I am and what I believe, I don't know how I will ever reconcile the betrayal I've discovered.

Barry has been my hero for almost as long as I can remember. The second man to be called the Flash, he was my uncle (by marriage but still) and probably the greatest man I ever knew. He was more of a father to me than my own. Still, Barry wasn't perfect. He was just a man. A man who made mistakes just like every other human being does. That's never stopped him from being my hero, though. I didn't think anything ever would. (Most of me still doesn't.)

That's what's haunted me the most since he's been gone. I've just wanted to be able to do goo—to live up to his example. To _be_ good enough that I do the Flash name, and Barry's name, justice. It's all I ever wanted.

Now, I'm afraid I've done just that.

See, Barry left behind secrets. There were tings he couldn't tell me before he was gone. Things that I wish I could say I didn't know now. That's the hardest part of growing up, I think—finally having the rose colored glasses removed. It's not that I've changed how I feel about him, not exactly. It's more that I just really don't like it. Or accept any of it at face value.

That's why I pushed Ollie to tell me everything. I forced him with the vain hope that he'd somehow explain it away. (He always could spin a good yarn about politics, after all.) Instead, I learned exactly how deep this rabbit hole goes. I have known Oliver Queen for a very long time and I honestly don't know what I was more upset about—what happened all those years ago or that it was him and not Barry who finally told me about it.

Although, I suppose it was a sort of fitting irony to hear the story from the man inspired by Robin Hood. This was a man who spent his early hears preaching to anybody who'd listen and now he was telling a story I actually wanted to hear. Yeah, I could appreciate the situation (though I still would've preferred it happen to someone else). Still didn't mean I liked it, either, but I appreciate it nonetheless.

I try not to cringe when I see him lurking in the shadows. He has to know. This is the man known as the World's Greatest Detective—how could he not? Unless Ollie was right. Unless Superman really does only hear what he wants to hear and Batman only knows what he wants to know.

That might be the hardest part to swallow. Not that the League tampered with villain's minds so they didn't remember their identities. Not that they lobotomized Dr. Light after he raped Sue Dibney. Not even that they altered Batman's memory so he wouldn't know what'd happened.

None of that matters because it's not about the villains this time—it's about the heroes. They're everything I always looked up to. Superman is strong and brave, Batman is determined and intelligent, Wonder Woman is just and true—I could go on forever. But if they're all those things, how can they afford to still have human fallacy?

I know it's not fair. Even as I'm thinking this right now, I know that for a fact. How could I hold them to such a high standard and not myself? Somehow, though, they always seemed better. Not perfect (because that's impossible) but still above it all.

Now I know they're not.

So every time I see him, I'll remember. I'll remember what they did, and I'll remember that he chooses not to acknowledge it. It isn't a battle he's willing to fight; none of them are. Not even me. I'm just as much a coward as the rest of them.

A coward isn't something I've ever been before. It makes me feel like I'm slowly fading away. Like I'll keep falling until there isn't anything left to see that was _me_.

I want so badly to talk about it. To try to figure it all out because then maybe I can stop all this. But I can't. Kyle doesn't know enough, he's missing the really important stuff. And it's not my place to tell him. Truthfully, I'm not sure he'd even want to know; I know I don't.

And then there's Ollie. Part of me wants to talk to Ollie but the rest wants to sock him. Because, in the end, he was right about everything. Every _damn_ thing. He always said it—always knew like the cocky bastard he is. I just never listened; never heard what it was he was really saying. (It's not really my strong suit, what with the short attention span and all.)

Jokes. Bad jokes, at that. I must really be losing it.

_"Is there a problem Wally?"_

Ah crap. And now he's giving me the Look. I didn't mean for it to go this way. God, Bruce, I'm sorry. Damn it! This is your fault too. World's _Greatest_ Detective. You know. You should, anyway. Why don't you just acknowledge it?

Why can't I?

_"N-nothing."_ Oh _great_. I've been reduced to stuttering. Way to hide the fact that something's bothering you, West. Excuse. Think of a damn excuse. _"I was --"_

_"Say what you're thinking."_ I hate that tone. It's times like these that I'm reminded why he scares so many criminals—why he scared _me_ for so long. Why he occasionally still does. Today is one of those occasions.

_"Nothing. I just -- no problem at all."_

Oh yeah, _much_ better. At least this time I didn't stutter. But he's still giving me that look. I guess I should know better than to try to fool the World's Greatest Detective by now. Too bad I have a surprisingly slow learning curve, given the nature of my powers. I suppose that's where I have something in common with Bart.

Okay, no more jokes. Really. I'm only making myself sad.

_OhthankGod._ Saved by the bell. Something's beckoning Bats back to Gotham and amen to that. I know it's selfish, but I want these guilty feelings to stop. I can feel myself fading, bit by bit, every moment I'm near him. And it sucks.

I'm so beyond ready to go home. Back to Central City where the lines aren't blurred and I'm still the good guy. Where the people who try to destroy my city are the bad guys. Where there's no weird hero fucking with hero stuff going on. It's just me fighting the good fight, one bad guy at a time.

And that's the draw, isn't it? I can still fool myself there—for now, anyway. I want to savor that feeling as long as I can because I know that all too soon it'll be gone, too. Nothing lasts forever, not even this illusion can.


End file.
